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Their momentum, under the destructive rate of speed they had been making, was great, and as the levitators, with independent power supply, still held them up, Sime continued to steer a course for the twin cities of Tarog. He was aided by a light breeze, and the Sun was nearing the western horizon by the time their rate of motion had become negligible. "Might at well land," Sime decided.
After a long silence Murray remarked: "It's just as well that the levitators gave out when they did. We were drifting mighty slow making practically no time at all. Probably we'd have been spotted if we'd gone much further." "Yeh?" Sime Hemingway conceded doubtfully. "But they may spot us anyway. We have no passes, and none of us looks very pretty.
The levitators screamed madly as they lost their purchase on the air, due to the ship's unstable keel. "We're goners!" someone shouted. "Kill that fool!" They bounced off a cliff, turned over and over like a tumbleweed. A cylindrical building, unexpected in this wilderness, loomed up. They seemed about to hit it, but floated past. The rock floor of the valley rushed up.
His muscles stood out hard and sharp, and with a supreme effort, aided by the growing brittleness of the rawhide in the dry atmosphere, he snapped his bonds. The ship was now quite near, and he waved frantically. He fancied he saw movement back of the pilot ports. Faintly he heard the hum of the levitators. Now it turned no!
He lifted his voice, a powerful bass. "Hi, hi! Let Tolto go! The princess may call!" There was no answer, only the rhythmic hum of the levitators. Again Tolto cried out. But there was no answering sound. The Sun poured in through the ports, and when presently the ship changed its course, the light fell full in his face, almost blinding him. The giant endured this without complaint.
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